Things that are bullshit:
My walls are butt-ugly. I know this because I’ve been staring at them for like 900 hours straight.
I need to call the doctor because I think I popped an internal stitch. I don’t KNOW this, but I think I did. Popping stitches is kinda bullshit.
Bedrest? More bullshit than you’d think. Especially when cockroach-y like myself. I’m sort of unable to move on my own, which sucks, because I AM alone today.
That song “All By Myself” is going through my head. That song is bullshit.
Spell check doesn’t recognize bedrest as a word, which makes me feel invalidated and insecure especially since Spell Check doesn’t think “Rebecca” is a word either, which it SO CLEARLY IS.
I have no Vicodin-Chip cookies because I am too sore to make them.
I found a number of cookbooks in my house when I was purging it. Cookbooks in my house are bullshit because I don’t cook. Especially WILLIAM SONOMA Cookbooks. Who the fuck did I think I was when I bought those? Martha Fucking Stewart?
Silent letters. What. The Fuck?
Things That Are NOT Bullshit:
Adding a silent “balls” to things when they’re awesome. Like silent letters, but better.
VEGAS, baby. December 10-12. I (still) Do is going on at the same time, so I’m joining forces with them so we can properly paint the town many shades of glitter. They’ve secured a block of hotel rooms at the MGM Grand and are having parties. I was just going to try and reenact Fear and Loathing and Las Vegas.
More bloggers means they can bail us out of jail we’re all, THIS HERE IS BAT COUNTRY, Pranksters.
Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups. They’re SO not bullshit.